worry about a thing, Red Meyer. I won’t be a burden to you.”
“Now, Bert, you know that isn’t what I meant, I was only trying to—”
“You’d better give me some space when I get there, because I’m comin’. Don’t you dare treat me like I don’t belong.” She returned the phone receiver to its base, and pressed her forehead to the cool desktop for a few seconds.
A hand touched her shoulder. “Are you okay, sweetie?”
Edith’s voice was soothing, but it also cautioned her. Sorrow and self pity too often formed a partnership, but it wasn’t going to happen this time. Not with Bertie Moennig. She couldn’t afford that weakness.
The door opened, and she looked up to see Franklin walk in, his beefy shoulders grazing the sides of the door frame. For once, his presence didn’t threaten her.
“I won’t be back to work today,” she told him, bracing herself for an argument.
“I know. I’ve already got someone on your job.” He glanced around at the office workers who hovered near. Though he wasn’t their supervisor, they scattered back to their desks.
He crossed the room and leaned over Bertie. “I’m sorry about your father. Are you going to be okay, hillbilly?”
The sudden, unfamiliar note of gentleness in his voice surprised her. “Thank you. I’ll be fine, but I have to catch a train to Missouri.”
He nodded. “Any idea how long you’ll be gone?”
She hesitated. She may not be back. Yes, she was needed here, but she would be needed on the farm at Hideaway with Dad gone. Cows would have to be fed and milked, the crops gathered, and she couldn’t expect Lloyd to leave his in-laws in the lurch so he could tend to everything.
“Hillbilly?” Franklin said sharply. “When do you think you’ll be back?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve got a farm to run now, and the troops need food as badly as they need airplanes.”
“Not sure I can keep your job open for you.”
“I’m not askin’ you to.”
He ran a thick palm across his forehead. “I’ll tell you what, you give me a call when you decide.”
She gave him a wry look. “I thought I was about to get fired today.”
A hint of a smile touched his mouth, and his eyes wandered downward. “That’s what I wanted you to think. You work better that way.” He gave her a wink, then turned and left, his thick shoulders grazing the sides of the door frame once more.
Edith stepped up beside Bertie. “Well, what do you know? That slave driver might have a heart, after all.”
Bertie allowed herself to be distracted. “Don’t count on it. He just knows good help when he mistreats it.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
A quick swallow, a deep breath, and Bertie regained control of her emotions. There were things to do. “All I need is a train ticket to Missouri.”
Edith nodded. “We’ll make that two tickets. I’m not letting you go by yourself.”
“You have a job to do,” Bertie said.
“I have a friend to sustain, and that is more important to me than my job right now.”
“You have a war effort to support,” Bertie repeated. “I’m going alone. Don’t you argue with me, Edith Frost.”
She had to make arrangements to get home to Hideaway.
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